Earth Fire (Earthrise Book 4) Read online

  EARTH FIRE

  EARTHRISE, BOOK 4

  by

  Daniel Arenson

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  AFTERWORD

  NOVELS BY DANIEL ARENSON

  KEEP IN TOUCH

  Illustration © Tom Edwards - TomEdwardsDesign.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  There it was—the source of the distress signal. A black planet orbiting a red dwarf. A world lost in blackness. A colony deep in the demilitarized zone. It floated ahead. Hell.

  As if to mock the crew, the Mayday call repeated on the starship's speakers, crackling with static, broken with pain.

  Help. Help. In Hell. Help.

  "Turn it off," said Captain Einav Ben-Ari, struggling not to shudder. "I've heard enough."

  Her lieutenant flipped a switch, and the recording died. The only sound now was the familiar engine hum of the HDFS Saint Brendan. Aboard the small, stealthy starship they flew: a captain, a pilot, and thirteen infantrymen. A few humans venturing into realms no humans should ever enter. Into no man's land. Into the darkness past the frontier, the remnants of the scum's empire which no race had yet claimed. The Human Defense Force called it the demilitarized zone. Among the troops, they called it Ghost Town.

  "What the hell are they doing out here?" Ben-Ari whispered. Standing on the bridge, she stared ahead at the dark planet. It was a rocky world, smaller but denser than Earth, all black mountains and craggy canyons, its star dim and cold. "We shouldn't be here. Nobody should."

  From the dark viewport, her ghostly reflection gazed back at her, hovering above the planet. Despite herself, Ben-Ari's eyes refocused on her astral mirror image. A young officer with dark blond hair, a pale face, and green eyes that had seen too much, that looked too old, too hurt for a woman of twenty-five. Eyes that had seen too much war. Too many friends fall. Her black battle fatigues faded in her reflection, and her head seemed disembodied, floating in darkness, and now Ben-Ari couldn't stop herself. She shivered.

  It's been five years since the war against the scum, Ben-Ari thought. Five years since we defeated the alien horde. Yet I still wake up screaming most nights. When I gaze into space, I still see the creatures.

  The Saint Brendan's engines changed gears. The ship gave a little jolt, and outside the viewport, the dark planet snapped back into focus. It seemed to mock Ben-Ari, to stare at her with its dark craters like arachnid eyes, a canyon on its surface leering like a mouth. Across the ship, the others felt it too. When Ben-Ari glanced behind her, she saw her infantry squad in the hold, thirteen warriors clad in black, hands tightening around their guns.

  "Sorry for the turbulence, ma'am," said Lieutenant Kemi Abasi, the ship's pilot. The young woman winced, hitting buttons on her control panel. "I'm not used to these stealth engines. This ship works very differently than a Firebird starfighter."

  The two officers could not have been more different. Ben-Ari had grown up an army brat, the daughter of an Israeli colonel, her childhood spent traveling from base to base. Kemi had grown up in Canada, the granddaughter of Nigerian immigrants, and had never known war until enlisting in Julius Military Academy five years ago, then fighting the scum as a pilot. Kemi's skin was dark while Ben-Ari was pale, her hair was curly and black while Ben-Ari's was smooth and blond, and she smiled readily while Ben-Ari struggled to still find joy in this cosmos. And yet over the past few years, the two had become more than just crew, more than just captain and pilot. They had become, perhaps, even more than friends. Kemi was like a sister.

  Don't let me lose my sister today, Ben-Ari prayed silently, gazing out into the demilitarized zone. Ghost Town. I lost too many friends and family already.

  The recording had been turned off, but the distress call still echoed in Ben-Ari's ears.

  Help. Help. In Hell.

  "What's that?" Ben-Ari said, squinting at the planet. "There, in that crater. Is that a natural structure?"

  She frowned, trying to see more clearly. She could make out only jagged black shapes like ancient ruins.

  "I'm not detecting any electromagnetic energy, ma'am," said Kemi. "No radio signals, no movement. Let me zoom in."

  The lieutenant hit a few buttons, and the viewport displayed a larger image of the crater. Ben-Ari's frown deepened.

  "It's . . . a building," she said. "No, not a building. A hive."

  "It just looks like a pile of boulders to me, ma'am," said Kemi.

  "In the middle of a crater?" Ben-Ari shook her head. "Run a heat scan, Lieutenant."

  Kemi nodded. On the viewport, the image glowed, blue around the edges, reddish in the center.

  "Trace amounts of heat," the lieutenant said. "Maybe geothermal activity. A volcano or—"

  "Life," said Ben-Ari. "Warm bodies." She nodded. "The distress signal came from there. Take us down, Lieutenant. And be careful. Keep scanning the area."

  "Scanning for what, ma'am?"

  "Anything," said Ben-Ari, her hand instinctively clutching her rifle.

  The Saint Brendan was not a large ship, not a powerful ship, her cannons small. But she was stealthy and fast. All smooth, black surfaces, she reflected and emitted no light. Highly advanced technology—most of which Ben-Ari barely understood—rendered the Saint Brendan invisible to the best telescopes and scanners.

  As they sailed toward the planet, Ben-Ari kept watching the viewports, seeking . . . she wasn't sure what. Scum pods? The scum, foul alien centipedes, had lost their empire years ago. They no longer occupied this space. Other alien ships? This was the demilitarized zone, forbidden for anyone to enter.

  Yet we're here, Ben-Ari thought. And down there, on the surface, in that strange dark structure—life. Life in danger. Life that calls for us. Life in Ghost Town.

  The Saint Brendan jolted as they slipped into the thin atmosphere, a haze of carbon dioxide with splashes of nitrogen. Ben-Ari watched the surface stream below them, a black desert of boulders, dunes, mountains, and canyons plunging into darkness. The starmaps simply called this place TSR7b, too insignificant for a proper name. It should be a lifeless world, just a desolate rock like the billions that filled this corner of the galaxy. And yet . . .

  With a crackle, the Mayday recording came back to life, emerging from the speakers far too loudly, echoing through the starship.

  Help. Help. In Hell. Help. They're everywhere. They—

  The words morphed into a scream of pure agony. It was so loud that Ben-Ari started and the soldiers in the hold cursed.

  "Sorry, Captain!" said Kemi, flipping switches, and the speakers shut off, leaving an echo. "I don
't know why it just turned on like that." She shook her head, her hair bouncing. "There's something weird seeping out of this planet. It's mucking up our instruments."

  Ben-Ari cursed inwardly, her knees weak. She pointed. "Just so long as you can land us in that crater. Take us down right by the structure."

  She had almost said alien structure, but she couldn't jump to conclusions yet. Perhaps Kemi had been right. Just the jagged mouth of a volcano. Likely, here were just outlaws or adventurers who had ventured too far, had gotten lost in Ghost Town, had crash landed on this world. Perhaps that was all, just a shelter for some lost, frightened humans where no humans should tread.

  Kemi directed the Saint Brendan down into the crater. They hovered for a moment, then landed with barely a sound.

  For a long moment, Ben-Ari stood silently, waiting. The structure loomed outside the viewport. It seemed so much larger from down here, dwarfing their ship, a black edifice, all jumbled, jagged stones.

  A hive, she thought. An alien hive.

  In the deepest chasms of her mind, the scum still scurried, massive centipedes, larger than humans, leaping toward her. Her soldiers screamed. Her soldiers died. The claws dug into her, and—

  Enough! Ben-Ari told herself. Stop. She inhaled deeply. You are a captain in the Human Defense Force. You are the commander of this ship and its warriors. You will act like it.

  Shoving the memories aside, she turned away from the viewport.

  "Come, Lieutenant," she said to her pilot. Ben-Ari walked off the bridge, and Kemi followed close behind.

  They entered Saint Brendan's hold, a rectangular room where a squad of warriors—all members of the prestigious Erebus Brigade—were waiting.

  "Officers on deck!" said Sergeant Murphy, the squad commander, a burly man with brown skin and a thick mustache. He and his warriors stood at attention, clad in black, holding T58 assault rifles.

  Ben-Ari stared at them. Tough warriors. Elite commandos. Brothers, sisters, children, parents.

  The scum are breaking in! echoed a voice.

  Run! shouted one of her soldiers, silenced as the tunnels collapsed onto him.

  Ben-Ari inhaled sharply. Stop. Enough. Do not let your memories interfere with your duty, Einav. Not now. Not here.

  "Several hours ago, our base received a distress call," Ben-Ari said to the squad. "It was garbled. There was so much static we couldn't make out more than a few words. But it was a human voice. And it requested help. There is a structure outside this ship—whether human, alien, or naturally formed, we don't know. We've detected lifeforms within. If there are humans here, our job is to get them out."

  "And blast any space bug we see!" said a private, a towering man with a square jaw, bulging muscles, and a blond crew cut. His actual surname was Johnson, but they all called him Private Johnny.

  Ben-Ari shook her head. "Not if we can avoid it. We're deep in the demilitarized zone. Any shots fired here could be interpreted as an act of war. According to galactic law, only urgent humanitarian missions are allowed here."

  "Hey, we're humanitarians!" Private Johnny hefted his assault rifle. A grenade launcher was attached to the barrel. "We're here to make sure humans squash the bugs."

  "We don't know there are bugs," Ben-Ari said. "The scum empire fell years ago. This might all be just a few miners trapped in a tunnel."

  Private Johnny sighed. "It's space bugs. It's always fucking space bugs."

  "Watch it, Johnny," rumbled Sergeant Murphy, "or I'll personally feed your ass to the next Betelgeusian cockroach we meet."

  "Sergeant Murphy, take the vanguard with me," Ben-Ari said. "Lieutenant Abasi, walk behind us with your scanners. Johnny, you take the rear."

  "What? I—" the burly private began, but under the withering glare of his sergeant, he stiffened and saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

  Ben-Ari sighed. "And don't salute indoors, Private. Did they teach you nothing at basic?" She grabbed a helmet from the wall. "Helmets on. Visors down. Magazines in."

  They stepped out of the Saint Brendan, two officers and thirteen soldiers, all in black, all holding assault rifles. Ben-Ari had considered bringing plasma guns on this mission, but they were more destructive than mere bullets—too destructive. Her mission was to find whoever had sent the Mayday and bring them home, not burn down the place.

  The structure towered before them. It looked like a mountain of boulders and pebbles glued together with tar. When Ben-Ari stepped closer, she frowned.

  "What is that?" Kemi said, staring with her. "Is that a net?"

  Ben-Ari stepped closer to the structure. Black strands clung to the tarry surface. She reached out, hesitated, then touched one strand. It was springy.

  "Alien G-strings?" said Private Johnny, walking up toward them.

  "A web," Ben-Ari whispered, looking at thousands of other strands that coated the structure, glued to the stone. "Like a spider web."

  Johnny nodded and cocked his gun. "Space bugs. Knew it."

  Sergeant Murphy approached, grabbed the private, and shoved the man back with a scowl. When he turned toward Ben-Ari, his scowl vanished, and his eyes grew solemn. "Ma'am, Private Johnson may have shit for brains, but in this case, he may be right. This looks like a typical Type Three organic alien infestation. Big one too. This structure is nearly half a kilometer long, and my scanner's showing organic material all over the damn place. We'll need backup. An orbital bombing campaign, then a couple platoons of marines with flamethrowers and chem-sprayers. In short, ma'am, this is a bug extermination job."

  "No, Sergeant." Ben-Ari shook her head. "Not here. If we were in human territory, yes. But this is the demilitarized zone. We're not supposed to even be here, let alone attack a potential new alien civilization. We don't know what alien species is here. We don't know if they're intelligent or not. We don't want to antagonize them and the rest of the sentient galaxy. We sneak in. We find whatever humans are alive in there. We sneak them out. That's it. This is a rescue operation, not a bug hunt."

  Like Corpus was a rescue operation? whispered a voice in her mind. Like the place where you led your platoon, Einav? Where your friends died, where you escaped while they rotted, where—

  She shoved that voice down again. She refused to let that terror seize her now, refused to show weakness. If anyone knew of her shell shock, she would lose her position as the Saint Brendan's captain, perhaps even be discharged. There would be time later to deal with her trauma, to listen to her old classical music collection, to paint with her watercolors, to meditate, to calm the storm. Right now, she needed to keep sailing through that storm.

  "Captain, ma'am!" A corporal rushed toward her. "Private Komagata found something. A doorway, we think."

  Ben-Ari nodded and followed the soldier. Flashlights mounted onto their helmets lit the way. As she walked, she kept scanning the area, gun raised, seeking some hint of the aliens who had built this hive. Nothing. If she was lucky, the aliens had left ages ago. The cosmos was an old place. Most worlds were billions of years old. Most alien structures were mere ruins, lingering long after their builders had gone extinct.

  Just a few human adventurers stuck under something heavy, she told herself. A simple, quick job, and we'll be back in human territory.

  They finally reached Private Ayumi Komagata, a young Japanese woman, smallest in the squad but among the fiercest. She stood with her legs in a wide stance, gun pointed at what looked like a cave in the structure's wall. Beyond lay shadows.

  "The gates of Hell," the young warrior muttered.

  "Then let us be angels," said Ben-Ari. "I'll lead the way. Follow me, guns raised, but keep your safety switches on and your fingers far from your triggers. Let's do this without violence if we can."

  Private Johnny smirked. "I don't need bullets to kill space bugs. I got big feet." He stomped on the ground, then leaned toward Private Komagata. "And you know what they say about men with big feet, right, Komagata?"

  "That they feel the need to boast because of their tiny cocks?" s
he said.

  As Sergeant Murphy scolded the two rookies, Ben-Ari stepped into the cave. A tunnel delved into darkness. She walked, rifle held before her, her flashlight barely able to pierce the shadows. Lumpy strands covered the floor and walls, and suddenly they reminded Ben-Ari less of a web and more of veins. A terror leaped in her that this was a great corpse, a massive alien who had fossilized on this planet.

  "Captain." Kemi approached her, staring at a handheld monitor. "Scanners show . . . air. This place is full of air. Twenty-two percent oxygen, seventy-seven percent nitrogen, one percent water vapor . . . small amounts of toxins but nothing we can't handle. Earth air or close to it. We can breathe this." The lieutenant pulled open her visor, inhaled deeply, then grimaced. "It stinks. But it's breathable."

  Ben-Ari raised her own visor, and she nearly gagged. Stinks was an understatement. This place reeked of rot, of death. She pulled her visor back down and inhaled the clean air that flowed from the tank on her back. "Breathable? That's debatable. Still, it raises some interesting questions. The atmosphere outside is hostile. Why is the air in here so different, suited not just to life—but to human life?"

  Private Komagata raised her visor too, then turned green and quickly shut her helmet again. "Alien stench. Worse than Johnny's giant feet."

  Kemi pulled down her own visor, apparently having suffered enough of the miasma. She looked around at the veined walls of the tunnel. "What is this place?"

  "Do you still detect heat signatures, Lieutenant?" Ben-Ari said.

  Kemi checked her monitor again and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. From deeper in the structure."

  "Let's keep going," Ben-Ari said.

  They plunged deeper down the tunnel. Ben-Ari's visor was closed, but she still smelled that stench. The stench of space. Many back on Earth thought that space had no smell, but it did—a burning, metallic smell, and this place was rank with it.

  We should never have come here, Ben-Ari thought. We don't belong here. Not in the demilitarized zone. Not in space. There is such darkness here. Such coldness. Such evil.

  The tunnel delved deep, twisting, coiling through the innards of this stone structure. The webs along the walls thickened, black, bristly, and it seemed to Ben-Ari that the strands were living beings, serpents that crawled and grabbed and built.